134 Deranged (1/2)

”Anthony, did you know that in Cla.s.sical Greece there was a rather amusing torture device that was widely popular.” I gave a slight pause, taking time to gauge the reaction of our captive from the corner of my eyes. ”They called it the brazen bull...” I proclaimed proudly.

Anthony looked at me with amused eyes and then just hummed in acknowledgement.

”Do you know why they called it that?” I asked him playfully. He chuckled lightly and shook his head.

”Why don't you enlighten me, Mia? I can see that you are rather eager to inform me about this gruesome torture method that you seem to be so obsessed with.” I gave him a pointed look before continuing.

”Because you seem to be so keen on knowing about it, I will do you the honor of getting to know this ingenious method,” I bit back. ”Supposedly, a man by the name of Perrilus took it upon himself to please his ruler, the great dictator, Phalaris Agigentum. It looked like a life-sized bull but had a door like entrance in it. The incredible part was that there were holes in the nostrils and horns of the bronze bull. A criminal who would be convicted of a capital crime would be put into this enclosed, but hollow bull and then slowly roasted to-”

”What?” he interrupted, looking at me with shock filled eyes. ”They cooked this person and ate them?” an incredulous chuckle left his lips.

”Of course, not! As cool as cannibalism may seem to you, this device is slightly more complex.” He huffed and gestured me to carry on. He seemed rather intrigued.

”So? What did they do next?” he urged when I didn't continue.

”As the bull was placed over the flame and the person inside roasted in the heat, they would scream in agony. The bull was so built that these screams would filter through the holes in the horn and nostrils and sound like a raging bull, thereby fulfilling the irony of the name.”

”That was rather... intriguing.”

”I know,” I said, seeing that Cienna looked rather shaken.

”Where did you get this information from, Mia? I'm sure you've never seen this ritual happen before.”

”Who told you that I haven't?” I asked him with a challenging look.

As a matter of fact, I found out about this method from a drug lord who was obsessed with Greek Cla.s.sicism. He happened to love torture and Greece. I was rather horrified when I heard of what was to happen, and a bit fl.u.s.tered when he tortured his subordinate for lying to him, but I shortly understood the beauty of the method.

Cruel, gruesome, and painful.

”Who have you been mixing with?” he asked me, his voice as low as a whisper.

”Fanatics and psychopaths?” I offered, innocently.

”How did you survive?” he asked me. No, the curiosity in his voice was shrouded with fear and worry. It was rather endearing.

”Let me finish the story,” I gave him a playful glare.

It helped that I killed them all in the end. It helped to know that I was invincible.

”Go on,” he resigned after giving me a heated stare.